Somewhere in Between
by Beji
Summary: A prequel for 'To Change the Future'. Bulma makes the ultimate confession, but can Vegeta respond before she's too far gone?


   At long last, the prequel, which has been on my mind for freaking months now! It was inspired by the song 'Somewhere in Between' by Lifehouse, another awesome group. The song is kinda slow, and altogether nice and it fits.

       Wow…I can tell even as I write this that my abilities have improved greatly, tremendously! Cool! This is where practice gets you, boys and girls!! I'm, so, PROUD of myself!!

       Hope you like it Rae! How is it that we end up reading all the same fics? Other than the ones we tell each other about I mean? Guess we have the same sort of taste in stories… ^_^ Coolness. For all of you unfamiliar with my other story, To Change the Future, this my friends, is a **PREQUEL**. It works fine as a stand alone, but let me make you aware of a few small items.

    Here, the **_DRAGONBALLS DO NOT EXIST. DO NOT. EXIST.  NOR DO SENZU BEANS_**! 

    Let me recant, **_NO DRAGONBALLS_**, and **_NO SENZU_**! Got it? Get it? GO!

**_~Somewhere In Between~_**

**(~*~)**

**_~A Prequel~_**

       She had waited. So long, so patient. She had watched him carefully, studying his reaction to her. To certain stimuli, gauged by the widening of his eyes whether he would be ready. She had been ready for so long, so long…and now she believed him to be ready too. It was impossible to predict what he would do in the situation he was about to be thrust into, but she tried anyway. Tried to visualize that he was ready, that he wouldn't push her away like she was completely insane. She probably was completely insane, but she would try. She _would_ go insane if she didn't try soon. How had he survived so long without releasing any of his emotions? It couldn't be healthy. No wonder he was a total basket case more often than not.

       Now? Is now the time? No, just a little while longer. Bide your time woman; you have all the time in the world. He isn't going anywhere, and neither are you. No, she had to do it soon, maybe even now…nope, just a few more moments. She had lived the past twelve, nearly thirteen years telling herself that. She hoped somehow, after all this time, that he would be ready. 

       Just do it, what is the worst that could happen? Stupid thought, there was plenty bad that could happen, plenty, plenty… She would do it, now, now…NOW!

       "I love you." 

       Blinking eyes, his confusion plain, racing heart, bated breath. That look of shock, it pierced her soul, had _she_ been that good at hiding how she felt? She didn't expect him to reply in kind, but, kami! A kiss, a touch, a nod of acceptance…anything! Anything but that blank stare, that look that said she had no idea what she was doing, that he had no idea what to do next. 

       This she had not predicted. Even in her darkest ponderings she had not thought of this response. This, uncaring. 

       Gathering a shuddering breath into her lungs, she cringed away from him, vaguely journeying to her pillow, her side of the bed. He released her. He _released_ her. How dare he?! Let go like this, when he should be pulling her close, touching her face, _showing _instead of _telling_ her how much he cared. How could he not care? How could he _pretend_ not to care?

       She rolled over, away from that steady gaze, those impenetrable eyes. Breathing deeply again, she refused to cry. Refused, refused, she would not let him see. Wouldn't let him see how shattered her heart had become, shattered by nothing. Nothing; the lack of something there.

(~*~)

       Stroking, stroking her face. Touching her lips, tangling his fingers in her hair. That soft hair. She was so beautiful, lovely, enchanting even. Was he only noticing that now? No, he had known it long, long ago, when he had first caught sight of her, he was entranced by her even then. Even then. 

       She seems, unsure…eager? Perhaps. Like she's planning, something grand. Something unexpected, maybe a trifle controversial. Something different.

       Slightly parted lips, an invitation, a pull…irresistible. A soft kiss, lovingly placed. She smiles gently, and he is sure of the stopped condition of his heart. No man could keep his heart going under the assault of that smile…her smile. That it was _her_ smile made it so much more endearing. She's ready to speak, he can tell, looking deeply into those blue eyes, almost forgetting his name in their liquid depths.

       "I love you."

       What? She _what_? How can she do this, he can't possibly answer that! She knows, she knew him better than anyone in the universe, knew many of his darkest secrets. How could she betray him? She _knew_. That was the clincher. She _knew_ that he couldn't respond in kind, couldn't reveal his deepest, darkest secret. His secret love. _She_ was his secret love, one of the few secrets he thought he still kept from her. Did she know?! How could she? But if she didn't know, she would not have placed herself in an awkward position such as this. 

       His natural, instinctive responses were his saving grace, and his condemnation. He closed up, shielded his eyes from her probing blues, refusing. Refusing to allow her the pleasure of reading his thoughts via his eyes. Empty, blank. Nothing.

       She's gone, utterly spurned. His realization is too late, she pulls away, like he is some diseased animal. A beloved pet, and suddenly she knows that he is rabid. Can't stand to be near him. He gives in to her wish, and lets go, releases her.

       Touch her, touch her you fool! Why? Why can't you reach out to her, she is not beyond the brink, she can still be brought back! Just make the effort, get closer. Apologize. NO! That is the same as reaching out to her, apologizing, admitting he was in the wrong, just this once. How humiliating. She'll laugh. Laugh at _him_. For being foolish, proud. Won't allow humiliation, laughter, loss of pride, stature.

       He can't be reduced in her eyes. She can't think him weak.

(~*~)

I can't be losing sleep over this, 

**No I can't, and I cannot stop pacing**

       Garish sunlight struck her face harshly, streaming through the balcony doors onto her tired face. She had slept very little, and she knew that he slept even less. At least she managed a few hours before dawn… Only to be awakened when he left to train. There was no reason for him to train she supposed, other than the fact that he enjoyed it. Like he used to enjoy her. Used to. She was confused as hell now, completely unsure of his feelings (if any) towards her. 

       Everything had been going so well, and she blew it. He wasn't prepared adequately, perhaps never would be. She sighed heavily, pulling her ache-ridden body out of bed. Pausing at the dresser, Bulma read a quickly scrawled note, stating his urgent need for more sweat pants.

       She cursed loudly, ripping the piece of paper to shreds and letting the bits float to the floor. Like hell she was going to buy him _anything_ right now. What kind of idiot did he take her for? What kind of idiot was _he_? 

       She took a hot shower, forcing herself to relax. He would not affect her this deeply. She pushed him out of her thoughts—there was no reason to focus on the jerk _every_ waking moment—and considered her plans for the day. 

       She had to go shopping, clothes shopping with the kids. He would think that…let him. Let him be amazed at her when she brought back none of what he had requested. If it could be called a request. A simple two-word note boasting, "SWEAT PANTS" was nothing short of a demand. And the simple 'V' at the bottom only served to further sour her stomach.

       Cursing once again, she released her stranglehold on the defenseless bar of soap, angrily digging the gooey bits of cleanser from underneath her fingernails. Furiously the soap was flung against the tile, "Why?" escaping her lips.

       Anger failed to override her heartache though, and she leaned against the shower wall, letting a sob loose from her throat. She wept loudly, releasing all of her pent up crying from the previous night. How? How could he reject her, when moments before he was _so, tender_? So…loving was what came to mind.  When she was sure of his feelings, he turned everything on its head and acted so strangely, probably just to spite her.

       She wanted to hate him, hate him passionately. Hate him so much that her only desire was to see his still-beating heart in her hand. To cause the same pain he caused. But she couldn't cause that pain. She couldn't cause _him_ pain, and that smarted the most. For all she tried love won over in the end, only making her sob harder. 

       Why didn't he love her?

(~*~)

**Give me a few hours **

**And I'll have this all sorted**

**If my mind would just stop racing**

       Training seemed so pointless, and not for the first time. If there was something about _her_ weighing heavily on his mind, he could never train until all was cleared up. Meditation was the desired alternative at the moment, and he left the gravity room to sit in a tree outside. He had always enjoyed trees, the few on Vejiita-sei had been imported, and no one was allowed near them except the gardener. Of course, that had never stopped the young Prince, who snuck into their heights, enjoying the hidden calm as the breeze caressed his body.

       He knew, was sure that he was in the wrong this time. Having ascertained that, he focused on methods for preserving his relationship with her. There was no way he would allow that relationship to die. But how? How could he keep his pride intact while letting her know that he cared…even, _loved_? It was still so hard to tell. No Chikyuu-jin had yet given him an adequate explanation of what _love_ really was.

       Why? Why hadn't he embraced her then, when it mattered the most? What had held him back? Fear? Of what? Fear had always been the only thing to hold him back from _anything_, and even then it was well hidden. 

       He could go to her tonight, and hold her. She wouldn't have him though, she would ask questions. He quickly decided that whatever she asked he would answer to the best of his abilities. She deserved to know, he didn't hate her. Completely the opposite.

       The smell of lunch jerked him out of his reverie, and he stared aloofly down at three-year old Bra, wandering the stand of trees. She announced the meal loudly, in her mothers annoying high-pitched voice.  He held still, not allowing the smallest sound to betray his presence. Stopping directly beneath him, she uncannily sensed him, glancing up to smile joyously at her father.

       "Touchan! I' 's time to come a' eat lunch!" She squealed happily as he landed gracefully in front of her. Clapping her hands and skipping, Bra followed a silent Vegeta into the house, utilizing the back door to take them directly into the kitchen.

       Bulma didn't look up from her meal as he entered, though she stiffened. Now was when he was supposed to get angry with her, for ignoring him, but he kept silent and sat down. Trunks glanced worriedly from one parent to the other, his concern evident.

       Tonight then. He would go to her, and mend this. He was finding out quickly that he didn't like her cold demeanor, her attitude of disinterest in him altogether. He felt conviction creep up as he realized that he treated her this way so often…but he always made up for it later. Consoling himself with the thought, he pushed away the guilt placed on him by the hurt shining in her eyes, and ate his meal in the continued silence. 

       How could he know? How could he ever know that every moment that passed without him confessing chipped another shard from her aching heart, bringing her ever closer to tears. He couldn't know. He had never taught her how to wall off her feelings from him, but now their link, their sacred bond was useless to inform him of her pain, most likely she had instinctively shut him away. 

       Seemingly unable to eat anymore of her food, Bulma rose slowly from the table, scraping the plate off into the sink and running the disposal. She instructed Trunks to get ready to go when he was finished, and make sure Bra got her shoes on. The fifteen-year-old nodded obediently. Openly refusing to look at Vegeta, she turned to quickly pace from the kitchen, leaving an uncomfortable silence in her wake.

       Quickly placing his dishes in the sink, Vegeta returned to the Gravity Room, only to turn up the gravity and meditate more.

       He wanted to go to her now, but he quashed the idea. She would never get to the store if he went now, and the kids were still awake. He had the distinct feeling that the discussion would be long and arduous, and Bra, unlike her brother, was not independent enough to be on her own all day. 

       A half hour passed, and he chased circles in his mind, no ground being gained, and certainly none given. Bra trounced in and asked if he wanted to accompany the rest of the family to the store. Like hell he wanted to. He refused the invitation, but followed the young girl back to the kitchen. (AN: For those of you who read TCtF, I'm sorry this part doesn't line up like it did in the flashback, but if you look at it again in chap. 9, you'll see that that particular scene would look very odd here. I may go re-write it…)

       His mate continued to ignore him, until he reminded her of his request for sweat pants. She visibly shook with outrage, previously contained tears now streaming down her face.

       She wiped the drops of liquid away quickly, turning on her heel to stalk from the room and collect herself. Trunks was aiming confused and suspicious glances at his father, and strode into the other room to make sure that his mother was alright.

       He heard the sound of keys jingling, and Bulma gathering her purse. Bra rushed back into the room to wrap short arms around his leg, smiling gleefully. "Bye bye Touchan!" She crowed, scurrying back into the front hallway. He shook his head with disdain…how he hated that title. At least Trunks called him Tousan, which was infinitely more respectable. 

       He dug through the fridge half-heartedly, still unsure of his decision to wait to talk to his mate. Not finding anything worth putting into his growling stomach, he wandered back outside to lay in the branches of the same tree. Balancing easily, he folded his ams behind his head and drifted his eyes shut. 

       He could tell her, right now, their bond would allow it. But she had always felt odd talking to him that way, and a confession in that particular form would not mean as much as it could face to face. There was also the fact that she had blocked him out. His consciousness slipped away slowly…

(~*~)

       Wrong. Something, _everything_ was wrong. A strong feeling of dread covered him, and his stomach lurched. It was coming, coming, coming, _something_ was threatening someone…_her_. Them, to be precise. 

       Time stood still, and he dared not breath. Abruptly three voices screaming, crying out in need were heard, resonating through his skull. They ended as quickly as they had begun, vision blurry, and great pain was smothering, suffocating him. He fumbled about blindly when he felt a knife slide into his chest, the vicious attacker twisting the blade maliciously.

       He cried out. Why? Why did it hurt so badly, what had caused this pain, this…emptiness? So empty, void. Intelligent thought refused to form, his mind operating only on the most basic of levels. Pain, emptiness, need. Need? Need to leave, to go to them. To find the reason for his pain…for _their_ pain.

**I cannot stand still**

       He blindly searched for their ki, feral panic gripping him. Bra. He could only sense Bra. Maybe… Maybe the others were somewhere else, but where? Only Bra, Bra only…no Trunks. He would have been the easiest to sense, and yet, he was invisible. Gone, perhaps. No, never that.

       A black void, eating at him, rending his soul, eating out his heart in small, delicate bites. Where was she? Why couldn't he feel her? She should have been the first for him to sense, her ki boosted to his senses alone, her very mind waiting just at the other end of their bond. That emptiness, it was filling where the bond was! He couldn't consider what had the power to break such a link…couldn't…

       Eyes opening, jolting surprise. He was nearly to them, to Bra. The others, they were somewhere else…kami, let them be somewhere else. Anywhere else.

       Not anywhere. NOT ANYWHERE! Anywhere but _there_. Why did they have to be there? His eyes riveted to the small vehicle, almost unrecognizable, now a squashed hunk of metal. 

       His feet reached the ground, thudding heavily into contact with the earth. He stumbled, moving forward jerkily until his legs gave, his knees quailing at the sight he beheld.

**I can't be this unsturdy**

       Bulma. She was only identfiable by the shock of blue hair that emerged from the carnage. She seemed almost…flat, a pool of blood running from the door of the car, and down the street. He grit his teeth when his eyes registered his son's lack of motion, large pieces of the dashboard and engine puncturing his soft abdomen. As vulnerable as any human, simply because he wasn't powered up…and it cost him his life? How was this fair?

**This cannot be happening**

Hands found the ground, fingers digging ruts into the asphalt as he retched from the depths of his being, leaving his lunch displayed before him. Eyes squeezing shut, he released curse after curse, aiming them at the offending vehicle, at Dende, at anyone worthy of blame. Himself, much of the time. 

       He didn't care when wet drops dripped from equally wet cheeks, or when a hand grasped his shoulder. He hung his head down, not wanting to acknowledge the sight of his mangled family, not wishing to acknowledge Kakarott. He faintly heard a child crying, and the sound came closer as she was carried to her remaining family member.

       Mumbled words of sorrow were exchanged above his huddled form, and Bra was handed to Kakarott. Sneering, wiping his mouth with the back of a hand, and standing all in one motion, Vegeta gently but viper-quick grasped his daughter, and she went to him willingly. She sniffled into his shoulder, somehow comforted by his presence. He never paused to notice that somehow she offered the same comfort to him.

       Ashen face and rigid stance, a cold stare watched in silence as the wreck was cleared. He was morbidly pleased to see that the driver of the oncoming semi had not survived. Some nervous wretch explained that the driver had been under the influence, and fell asleep at the wheel. No answer was given the younger man, as Vegeta continued to stare with a pained expression at _her_ lifeless body.

       How did it come to this? And now…she would never know. She hated him still. He closed his eyes against threatening tears, Bra falling asleep in his arms. 

       The younger Saiyajin led him to the shoulder of the highway when traffic started moving again.

       "Vegeta, you need to go home. There's nothing else you can do here." He turned to Goku, sneering at the gathered moisture in the other man's eyes. He wanted to beat him, beat _something_ into a bloody pulp. Growling in frustration, he took to the air, unsure of his destination. 

       Deciding that Bra needed to be in her own bed, he headed back to Capsule Corp. 

       The little girl was laid gently on her bed, and Vegeta exited the room to return to his own bedroom. Collapsing back onto the soft mattress, he finally allowed his mind to consider the fateful question. 

       What now?

**This is over my head but underneath my feet**

**Because by tomorrow morning **

**I'll have this thing beat**

**And everything will be back to the way that it was**

**I wish that it was just that easy**

       Bra's crying voice jolted him out of his self-induced stupor.

       Her tear-streaked face peered at him from the edge of the bed, wide cerulean eyes begging him for comfort. He obliged by helping her onto the mattress, and he settled back to sitting cross legged and staring at her still-crying form.

       "What's wrong with you?" He wearily questioned, and she opened her eyes to blink uncertainly at him. Without further thought she crawled into his lap and nestled into a tiny ball, turning her head once to wipe a runny nose on his thigh. 

       "Quit that, or your butt is going right back through that door. What's wrong?"

       "I had a bad dream." She stated, as if revealing some deep secret.

       "I gathered that. What was so bad about it that you have to wipe your snot all over my leg?"

       "I dreamed that Kaachan and Niichan got hurt real bad, and they didn't never come back from the hospital." He blinked, his mouth turning down into a frown. "That wasn't a dream, Bra. They aren't coming back." It hurt to admit, and that odd feeling in his chest intensified, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the pain. If only…if only it _was_ merely a dream. He would give his right arm to get them back…

**I am waiting for tonight then waiting for tomorrow**

**And I'm somewhere in between**

**What is real and just a dream**

       "They're not?" She wimpered pitifully, eyes tearing up again.

       "No, they're not." He managed, and pulled the small child from his lap and into his arms. She hugged him fiercely, and cried sadly. How could they just leave? Didn't they like her? Didn't they like her Touchan?

       Emotion that had been held in since he saw the wreck was released, and Vegeta refused to feel the deep shame that came with crying. He buried his face into the top of his daughter's head, darkening her blue hair with tears.

       Some time passed before he realized that Bra had cried herself to sleep, and he lay her gently on the bed beside him. Regaining his composure with some difficulty, Vegeta retreated to the bathroom to wash his face with cold water.

       Collapsing back onto the bed, Vegeta was out like a light, fatigued from the days stressful events. His sleep was restless though, and anything but energizing. He awoke more drained than before, thankful that Bra was still out cold. 

       Bulma's mother timidly entered the room, knocking lightly on the open door as she advanced. Her face was tear-streaked, and her eyes troubled.

       "Vegeta? Are you feeling allright honey? I wanted to discuss the funeral arrangements with you, but if now isn't a good time…" She softly spoke, avoiding waking up the sleeping child.

       "Go ahead," Vegeta mumbled in return, closing his eyes and massaging the bridge of his nose.

       We wanted to just ahave a simple grave-side service, and bury them on the property. The ceremony would be at 11 tomorrow morning, and the reception here at noon. Is that…okay?" She sounded unsure.

       "What's a reception?"

       "Well, everyone will come here for refreshments and socialize for a while—"

       "Socialize? So we turn their death into a social event? A…party? Well, excuse me if I don't jump for joy. Yippee! Bulma's dead!" Vegeta sputtered.

       "No no! We talk about Bulma and Trunks with our friends, and everyone will express their regrets and go home. It's certainly not a party! This is no reason to celebrate." He nodded understanding, closed eyes a signal for her to leave. She obeyed wordlessly and slipped out of the room.

**Would you catch me if I fall **

**Out of what I fell in**

**Don't be surprised if I collapse**

**Down at your feet again**

       Why was he even dealing with all this? Why didn't he just go join them, end his now-miserable existence? Every instinct in his body screamed for him to do just that, but a persistent nagging held him back. Why not? A quick glance at the small form now huddled against his side provided all the answers. But Bulma's parents could raise her. Kakarott's family even. He wasn't really needed here.

       And yet, recalling the way his being near calmed her significantly dispersed all thoughts of leaving her to be cared for by another. He had a responsibility towards her, there was no plausible reason for her to grow up an orphan. Besides, it would show to all just how weak and directionless he was, to just give up on living. To give up on living, when there was still one that needed him desperately. 

       He wouldn't, no _couldn't_ abandon Bra. And so he stayed.

**I don't want to run away from this**

**I know that I just don't need this**

_*~ The end~*_

Finally, the end!! If y'all are disappointed by the sad ending (it was painful just to write it!), do remember that this is a prequel! If you would like to read the story, check out 'To Change the Future" which starts a month after this fic. It's completely finished! I'm actually considering a sequel to that, but it will be a while in coming, and I'll only write it if people actually want to read it!

Please oh please review! This is a one-shot, and this will be my only chance to get reviews out of it! So, make the best of your time, and leave me a little note detailing what you thought of my prequel!!

 As long as your hanging around my corner of the woods, feel free to check out my two other works of fiction, Perfum N 18 and All in Me! 

Arigatou gozaimasu, minna!!


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